Desperation Samba
by Flamingo1
Summary: After a powerful enemy attacks the Institute, Rogue is on the run with Cannonball, Wolfsbane, Jubilee, and Multiple in tow. With the other XMen scattered, Rogue must fight to protect her group with help from unexpected allies.
1. Chapter 1

I'm BA-ACK! (Hide the children)

Disclaimer: Who the hell owns XME anymore? Marvel? Certainly not me. This is a plot bunny that just wouldn't go away. Hope it brings you some amusement.

This starts around about the end of the series (except Rahne and Jubilee are back at the Institute, obviously).

Italics in parentheses indicates telepathy.

(page break)

_(Case Zulu! Case Zulu! Rogue, Kurt, Storm, Beast, Logan, Case Zulu!)_

_ (I hear you, Jean…I've got Rahne, Sam, Jamie and Jubilee.)_

_ (Jean, Kitty and I have Amara and Bobby)_

_ (Jean, no one else was around, but I'm clear.)_

_ (Got Sparky and Sun-boy. Wait, I see Storm…)_

_ (Jean, Logan and I have Ray and Roberto.)_

_ (Everyone: Scott, Evan and I have the Professor. You all know what to do…take care of each other. See you…when we see you.)_

And that was that. Distressed, Jean reluctantly let go of her contacts with her teammates' minds. That would be the last time she spoke with any of them for a long while, maybe forever for some of them.

_ Please, God, keep them safe._

Scott, sitting in the pilot's seat of the jet, looked over at Jean in concern almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind. Their bond was a source of comfort, as always, but this situation almost immediately negated the soothing effect.

_ (I'm sorry.)_

Jean smiled sadly. Just a few days ago, Scott's progress in instigating a telepathic conversation would have made her elated. After all, it was a major bit of the evidence in favor of her and the Professor's theory that all people were psychic…and could tap the ability if they worked at it. Now, though, the thought of the Professor and their research only served to fill her eyes with tears.

_ (Oh, Scott…they'll be all right, won't they? They're trained, I-I…)_

_ (Yes, they are trained. All of them know what to do, and they aren't completely devoid of resources. It's going to be OK.)_

Funny how his telepathic voice always managed to make her feel hugged. Infusing more hope into her thoughts, she stood from the co-pilot's seat and kissed his cheek.

_ (I'm going back to check on Evan and the Professor.)_

_ (We'll be at Muir Island in a half hour, give or take.)_

_ (OK.)_

Past the main seating center, Jean walked into the cramped sickbay and nearly laughed at the scene before her. Although the Professor's being unconscious wasn't at all amusing, Evan's attempt to bandage his own arm was.

Clearing her throat, she stifled another laugh when Evan jumped. The bandage wrapped so carefully unrolled swiftly, making him curse. Then he looked up at her, worry evident in his eyes.

"Did everyone make it out?"

"Yes. Would you like some help?"

"Sure." As Jean took a seat across from him and began to re-bandage the gash on his arm, Evan studied her.

"We going to Muir Island?"

"Yes. We'll be there in thirty minutes."

"They're going to be fine, Jean."

She looked at him for perhaps a second before re-focusing on the other gashes adorning his arm and shoulder.

"I know."

"Seriously," Evan ducked his head to catch her eyes, "there will be some amazingly crazy road trip stories to hear, you know?"

Jean laughed. It felt…odd. Should she really be finding things funny when her friends were on the run? She met Evan's eyes squarely.

"Yes, there will be. Thank you."

He smiled and tapped the neatly bandaged wounds, "No problem. And thank you, too."

"You're welcome," She swiveled to look at the Professor, who was still quite unconscious on the small sickbay cot, "Has there been any change?"

Evan shook his head, "Nope. I did the usual stuff-temperature, blood pressure…it was all normal. He just…hasn't woken up."

Jean glanced at him sidelong.

"He's going to be fine, Evan."

"Good. We need him…look, I'm probably more help with the jet than with the," he waved his hand in the air, "telepathy stuff."

"It's OK. Go talk to Scott, he could use some company."

"Right."

Evan departed, and Jean felt Scott's wry amusement at the younger man's awkward attempt at 'supporting' him.

_ (Be nice. He's worried…we all are.)_

_ (The Professor?)_

_ (I'm going to go look for him right now.)_

_ (Make sure you can get out.)_

_ (Of course.)_

_ (Be careful.)_

_ (That too.)_

Jean relaxed into a cross-legged meditative posture and went about clearing her mind. Through all the worry and chaotic emotions, she focused on the two constants in her life: Scott and the Professor. Carefully setting Scott aside, she followed her image of the Professor, hoping against hope to find him safe and sound.

(Hmm…page break. Go with it, eh?)

Rogue cursed fluently under her breath as she steered the jeep down a moonlit stretch of highway somewhere in Georgia. At this point, they didn't have a destination, just a goal: to not get killed or captured. Translated: keep moving at all costs.

She flicked a glance to the back seat, to see Sam and Jubilee still asleep leaning against opposite windows. Rahne's wolf form was curled on the seat between them, her head resting in Sam's lap, Jubilee's hand curled in Rahne's fur.

Rogue's gaze shifted to the passenger seat, expecting to meet the sight of a slumbering Jamie. However, he was wide awake and watching her through the shadows in the car.

"Hey, Jamie. Go back to sleep, OK?" She spoke softly, determined not to wake up the rest of the kids. Let them sleep, to get out of this living nightmare as long as they could.

"Where are we?" Jamie's tone was equally quiet, but with a drowsy tremulous quality attainable only by the awoken young.

"Georgia, kiddo. Seriously, try to sleep." Please sleep, she thought with desperation. Don't make me be the strong, responsible leader right now. Not yet.

"Rogue?"

She managed, barely, to conceal her wince.

"Yeah?"

"Is everyone else going to be all right?"

Oh God. "Yeah, kiddo. We're all gonna be fine." _Liar_, the cynical part of her said smugly. _Shut up_, she thought fiercely…at herself.

"Are we going to stop for breakfast soon?"

"Once we reach Atlanta. In an hour or so." She said, trying to forestall any more questions.

It wasn't going to be that easy, apparently. In a heart wrenchingly concerned voice, "Aren't you tired? You're still bleeding, a little."

Absently swiping at the semi-oozing cut over her eye, Rogue had to smile at his concern. "I'm OK. Thanks for asking, though."

"Welcome…" His voice trailed off, and a quick glance to her right confirmed that he was asleep again.

After a few miles passed in silence, Rogue let herself ponder the impossibility of the situation. She was on the run with _four _kids in tow. Four _mutant _kids. And at least one of them could rather spectacularly lose control of his powers at any moment. Hell, _she _could rather spectacularly lose control if she had to employ her powers.

Case Zulu was the absolute last resort plan for a reason, she mused. The older people were supposed to grab any of the younger kids they could and run for it. Somehow in the confusion, she'd ended up alone with four charges. This wasn't going to work, how could she be expected to keep them safe?

A muted whimper interrupted her thoughts. Jamie slept on, but the rearview mirror showed a quivering Rahne, obviously in the throes of a nightmare. Poor kid.

Stretching an already sore shoulder to the limit while also trying to keep an eye on the unfamiliar road, Rogue reached behind her and stroked Rahne's furred back. The touch served to waken the wolf, who shifted back to human almost immediately. Disturbed by the motion, Jubilee and Sam made almost identical grunting noises and turned more toward their respective windows.

Holding her breath until she was sure neither of them had woken, Rogue met Rahne's gaze in the mirror. The younger girl's eyes welled with tears, but she angrily rubbed them away.

"Where are we?"

"About thirty miles north of Atlanta, Georgia. Are you OK?"

"I could ask you the same thing. You're still bleeding."

"Yeah, head wounds bleed a bit. I'm all right."

"Are we, ah…going anywhere in particular?"

"Right now? Atlanta, Georgia."

"Thanks." The sardonic rejoinder made the corners of Rogue's mouth quirk up in a smile.

"Sorry. It's been a long night."

"No kidding."

"I'm going to stop and find us some breakfast in Atlanta. Also, we need to get supplies."

"And showers."

Rogue laughed, prompting Rahne to smile back at her, "Yes, and showers."

"I don't want to go back to sleep." Rogue shot a glance at the mirror, unpleasantly unsurprised by the solemn turn to the conversation.

"Do you want to sit up here?" She gestured at the empty seat beside her.

"Yeah." Rahne commenced to crawl over the seat and settle herself between Jamie and Rogue. Idly she flicked at the radio controls, looking over at Rogue for permission.

"Go ahead, but keep it quiet. I want them to sleep as much as possible."

"Okay." After a second or two, the radio was playing classic rock, but the two girls otherwise rode in silence until they were through most of the suburbs of Atlanta. Rogue pulled the jeep into a twenty-four hour grocer's parking lot, and killed the engine.

Rahne and Rogue surveyed the surrounds, including three separate fast food places and a chain coffee shop.

"So…Starbucks or McDonald's?" Rogue queried.

Rahne eyed her speculatively, "Do you really want to give Jamie coffee?"

"Right, McDonald's it is." Rogue unbuckled her seatbelt and turned around to shake Sam and Jubilee awake. They both came to rather groggily, Sam surreptitiously swiping at the drool on his face. Rahne had gently prodded Jamie out of sleep, and Rogue was given the daunting prospect of four people looking at her, waiting for instructions.

_ Instructions on what we're going to do now, now that we're homeless, friendless, basically helpless…_Rogue ruthlessly cut the thought off, choosing to focus instead on the immediate problems of money and food.

"All right, we're going to go to McDonald's and get some breakfast. I have to get money out of an ATM, though. So…everybody out of the car, we'll go to the grocery store."

Thankfully the four kids were too subdued by their recent ordeal and the early hour to do much more than troop after her. Although a wayward glance or two was cast their way (five kids in semi-raggedy clothes, two of them showing the marks of a fight), they were allowed to enter, use the money machine, and leave two hundred dollars richer without comment.

Fifteen minutes later, they were all ensconced in a booth at Mickey D's, chowing down on Egg McMuffins, hashbrowns, and pancakes.

Jubilee was the first to bring up their predicament.

"So…what do we do now?"

Rogue sighed inwardly, and set aside the last of her McMuffin. Contemplating their prospects was enough to make her lose her appetite rather swiftly. Jubilee's question had put her right back in the same spot: all eyes on her. Great.

"Well…we're going to find someplace to stay. We have plenty of money. The card I used at the ATM is linked to a numbered Swiss bank account that isn't traceable at all to the Institute."

"Are we going to stay here, in Atlanta?" That was from Sam, who seemed to have finally woken up with the application of food.

"No. I don't think we're far enough away yet." Rogue looked at the four of them, one by one. On each of their faces she saw the same expression. Exhaustion could only push back the emotional response to their situation for so long. To keep them safe, she had to keep them on the move for the time being…as much as she could tell they longed to stay in one spot.

"We're going to head west now. I'm thinking a bigger city, someplace we can blend in," Jubilee snorted, and Rogue turned a reproving eye on her, "relatively speaking."

"Vegas?" Jamie's suggestion, of course.

"I was thinking further away. Seattle further away."

Her charge's reactions to the prospect of a cross-country road trip were…varied, to say the least. Jamie was excited, mostly because he was thirteen and running on a weird emotional high antithetical to the low of last night. Jubilee was gleeful, as she'd apparently been to Seattle before. Sam and Rahne, however, got right through to the practicalities.

"Three thousand miles? Can we do that?" Couched in Rahne's soft Scottish accent it sounded even worse.

"We have to. First, though, we're going to find a hotel room for the day. If we drive at night, then Sam and Jubilee can drive as well. That'll increase the amount of time we can travel." From their expressions, she was revealing brand new ways of looking at the situation. So maybe this leader thing wasn't all that hard after all…

"Actually, before the hotel room, we find a Wal-Mart. C'mon."

The search for a Wally World didn't last long. After another ATM draw, they came out of the store with three full sets of clothes apiece, some groceries and toiletries, basic medical supplies and (at least in Rogue's case) a splitting headache.

She was intensely pleased when they pulled up in front of a Day's Inn and she prepared to leave the jeep and go get them a room.

"Uh, Rogue?" Jubilee, again. This was getting old, fast.

"Yeah?"

"Shouldn't we go to some small out-of-the-way motel? Hide a little more?"

Do not snap at the child because it's been an exceptionally long time since you've slept, "We're hiding in plain view, Jubes. It's better to use a commercial outfit where we're just another group of customers then a owner operated gig where we might be remembered."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Later, when she was seated on one of the beds in their hotel room waiting for her chance at the shower, Rogue thought about the plan she'd come up with more or less on the spur of the moment in a McDonald's. It wasn't a bad plan, all things considered.

It was the execution that was getting to her. The sheer, overwhelming terror of being responsible for these kids was going to give her…well, more white hair than she already had. Speaking of…

Rahne stepped out of the bathroom dressed in clean jeans and a green T-shirt, to the sight of Rogue and Jubilee sorting through boxes of hair dye on the bed. Sam and Jamie were on the other bed dividing their attention between the TV and apprehensive glances at the girls.

"Hair dying party?" Rahne asked.

Rogue smirked at the discomfited looks on the boys' faces. "Yep. My white streak has to go. We have enough boxes if you'd like to dye yours as well."

"Maybe. Brown would probably be less noticeable then red, huh?"

"Probably."

After the hair dying was over, everyone piled on the bed and worked through a quick lunch of microwave Hot Pockets. Thank God for modern conveniences in hotel rooms.

Sweeping crumbs off the bedspread, Rogue turned to her charges.

"Okay, Jubilee and Sam, you two might end up driving tonight, so get some sleep. I need to sleep too. Rahne, Jamie, keep an eye out. Watch TV, eat snacks, just don't leave the room and don't answer the door or the phone."

Rahne and Jamie sat in the two chairs provided for the small dinette area. Both were desperate to discuss the events of the night before, but watching over their teammates while watching crappy daytime television just didn't seem to be the right time or place.

In the end, they avoided talking. An uncomfortable silence hung over the room until it was time to wake everyone at five so they could find dinner and continue running for their lives.

(Yet another page break. Anyone help me out here?)

Well, please leave a review full of praise. Or constructive criticism, take your pick. Flamers will be mocked shamelessly.

There will be more action in the next chapters, along with more explanation of just why the X-Men abandoned the Institute. Plus, meeting old friends. Always fun!


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the wonderful reviews! They made me feel special and inspired me to write (hint, hint).

I'm happy you all liked my interpretation/characterization of Rogue and the New Mutants. I hope you keep liking them! There's a bit more action in this chapter, I'm trying to balance action and the psychological effects of what happened (and is happening) to them.

A few notes: there's a 'naughty' word or two in this chapter. Be warned. Also, I totally screwed with the geography of the Gulf Coast. If you'd like to review and tell me how wonky it is, feel free. It probably won't change anything though…

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I'm a soon-to-be college student.

(page break)

Signs and streetlamps, small towns and suburbs all flashed by, quick as running water through one's hands. By the time anyone else in the car was awake enough to ask about their whereabouts, they'd reached the Mississippi.

Rogue had driven in a semi-trance, alert enough to keep an eye for pursuers and check on the kids, but also mulling their problem over and over in her mind. While it was all well and good to tell the kids they were going to set up house in Seattle, she wasn't entirely sure how they were going to go about it. _Blow up that bridge when we get to it, I suppose._

Speaking of bridges, they were approaching the toll bridge to cross the river. Alarmingly, the guards were not keeping to the regular 'take-the-money-wave-them-through' routine. They were checking cars and passengers. That could only mean they were looking for something…or more likely, someone.

Rogue did a quick check of the car, seeing only Rahne awake. Their car was next in line, so she hand-signaled Rahne to keep quiet. The younger girl's accent would be a dead-giveaway if someone had issued an announcement for their capture, or some such. Rogue, on the other hand, could blend in here.

When the guard in the booth waved them forward, she obediently pulled ahead, and returned the man's greeting with what she hoped was a steady voice.

"Where y'all goin' to?"

This was it, Lord she hoped her acting skills were up to the challenge. In her most casual sugared Southern tones, "Just visitin' my mama. Y'know, Thanksgivin' and all that."

"These all yours?" The guard, whose nametag read Williams, eyed the kids in the back speculatively. Especially Jubilee, who didn't look anything like the rest of them. Shit, she needed a story.

"Cousins. Livin' in Georgia, but Mississippi is home." Praying that he'd buy it, Rogue nearly had a heart attack when she heard someone in the back of the car stir.

Sam's voice called, nearly as Southern inflected as her own, "Where are we?"

"Just hit the river, hon. Go back to sleep." Please, please, get the hint.

"Right." A yawn, then he seemingly dropped off to sleep. Smart kid.

Williams appeared satisfied at her hasty explanation. He went to wave them forward, but Rogue needed intel. She had to know if the guards were looking for them.

"Officer, if you don't mind my askin', what's this all about?" She airily waved her hand at the line of cars, hoping to convey the impression of a gossip in need of material for her return home.

Williams was destined always to be a sucker for a pretty face. This girl smiled at him, called him 'Officer'…what could be the harm in tellin' her? She probably needed something to impress her mama with.

"Up New York way, a bunch of muties escaped. They're runnin' loose, and we're helpin' catch 'em."

Well, her acting skills were considerably better than she'd given herself credit for. She'd managed to plaster a concerned front on, smile and simper until cars behind her started honking, and drive away, all while resisting the urge to reach through the window and throttle that stupid guard.

Between the anger, terror, and sheer adrenaline rush, Rogue was shaking by the time they reached Louisiana. She had to get out and walk around, to breath fresh air, just for a minute or two. She had to figure out what the hell she was going to do, now that they were being actively pursued.

Stopping in a scenic turn-off looking out over a small bayou, Rogue killed the engine and looked behind her at the sleeping kids in the backseat. Gently, she reached out and tapped Sam's leg. He came awake almost instantly.

"We made it through the checkpoint OK?"

"Yeah."

"They were looking for us, weren't they?"

"Yeah."

"Damn."

"Pretty much. Look, I have to get outside and walk around. Keep an eye on them for a minute, K?"

"Uh-huh…are you all right?"

"I'm fine…stiff from driving."

Forestalling other questions, Rogue unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out into the early morning air. Although there was a short trail one could follow around the edge of the bayou, she didn't want to go out of sight of the car. Instead, she walked to the very end of the tongue of earth sticking out into the swamp.

Leaning her forearms against the railing, Rogue thought about the last time she was in Louisiana. Courtesy of Gambit, she'd been kidnapped and dragged down here. She felt the same confusion and fear now, for different reasons.

Why, _why, __**WHY **_couldn't the X-Men just be left alone to live their own lives? They were just _kids _for crying out loud! Angrily she pounded her fists on the wooden railing, cursing when a splinter of the weathered wood went through her glove and lodged in her hand. She almost started crying then, out of sheer frustration. The thought of the kids waiting back in the car stopped her.

They needed her to be strong, not crying and throwing a fit. They needed a leader. _Why me? Scott's the leader, not me! _Her rebellious self screeched.

_But they don't have Scott. They have you. Suck it up and do your job._ One seriously scary thought. What else was there to do, though?

Rogue squared her shoulders, newly resolved to her task, in time to hear footsteps behind her. Rahne walked up beside her on oneside, Jamie on the other. They were silent for a second before Jamie spoke up hopefully.

"Breakfast?"

Rogue and Rahne burst out laughing. Jamie followed suit after a second, happy that he'd made them laugh. Leaning against the car, watching the surrounds, Sam had to laugh as well. It felt good, amongst all the running and fear, to give in to a bit of laughter.

The three standing at the viewpoint turned back to the car. Before they could start walking, Jamie wrapped his arms around Rogue's waist hugging her as hard as he could. Rahne barely hesitated before doing the same, putting her arms over Jamie's.

Rogue froze for an instant in sheer surprise, willing herself to relax. She shyly patted their heads, meeting Sam's eyes and glaring at him when his smile widened. After a minute or so with no movement by her hangers-on, she growled.

"You kids want breakfast or not?"

That set them all off laughing again. Sheer relief from survival kept it up as they all piled back into the car and headed west. Rahne was the first to throw out a joke, prompting Jamie's near-endless string of knock-knock jokes.

By the time they rolled into Bossier City, Rogue was almost happy that she'd been saddled with these particular kids. She still worried about the future, their pursuers, the other X-Men…but, just for this morning, she could worry more about whether they were going to eat at IHOP or Denny's.

(page break. Oh frabjibulous day!)

Comfortably seated in a booth at IHOP, Rogue and the rest of the kids were finishing off breakfast when it happened. Sam, Rahne, and Jubilee were seated across from Rogue and Jamie, facing the ceiling mounted television. Sam was the first to see the news story flash across CNN. His alarmed expression transferred an almost palpable electric shock throughout the group.

"What is it?" Rogue asked, forcing herself not to turn around and look.

"They just showed a picture of the X-Men on TV…now it's individual pictures of Scott, Jean, Kurt, Kitty, Evan…you," he said hoarsely, eyes locked on the screen.

"Crap." Well, _that _was the understatement of, oh, the century.

The waitress had already dropped the check at the table. Rogue handed Sam the requisite amount of money.

"Rahne, Jubilee, get up like you're going to the bathroom, but just go out the door to the car. If you can leave when there isn't a hostess at the door, even better, but don't loiter." She handed Jubilee the car keys. "Jamie and I will follow you. Sam, pay the bill then get out to the car, OK?"

All the kids nodded seriously, then set about putting the plan into action. Keeping an eye on Rahne and Jubilee as they walked casually across the parking lot, and Sam at the counter, Rogue had to smile to herself a little. _I wonder if this is why Scott likes being leader so much…the rush of having people follow your orders. Whoops, here we go!_

She and Jamie sauntered out the door, talking nonchalantly about visiting a local state park. When they reached the car, Rogue climbed in the driver's seat and put the keys in the ignition. The moment Sam climbed in the car, she started the engine and headed out.

In their haste, none of them noticed the blond waitress who'd served them glancing speculatively between the TV and their fading taillights.

(not another page break)

Later, in a Holiday Inn across town, while the older kids slept and the television continued blaring, Rahne stood up from the dinette table to go to the bathroom. A slight sound from outside made her freeze in shock. It was a tiny, distressingly familiar noise-the sound of a fully automatic magazine being loaded. _Oh. Shit._

"What?" Jamie sat up from his relaxed slouch, full attention on Rahne's rigid form. "What is it?"

Without answering, she morphed into a wolf, still intent on the sounds from outside. Her wolf's ears were very good-almost the equal of Mr. Logan's. Thinking of Mr. Logan, and the tracking/training games they used to play in the woods behind the Institute would've choked her up in human form. _I wonder if he's even alive?_

Wolves don't cry, she stubbornly reminded herself. _And wolves protect their pack. _Right now, Rogue, Jamie, Sam, and Jubilee were her pack. She would protect them, no matter what.

Returning her attention to the problem at hand, Rahne carefully sorted through the sundry noises until she'd confidently identified a strike team (probably SWAT) of ten men, all with automatic weapons. When she returned to human form, she saw that Jamie had already roused the rest of their teammates.

Rogue was pulling her boots on, all business. "What've we got?"

"Ten man strike team, automatic weapons, tear gas."

"Right." Rogue methodically stuffed a change of clothes for each of them into separate plastic bags. She kept Sam's and Rahne's with her, and handed the other kids theirs'.

"Right, here's what we're gonna do. When I say go, Sam, you're going to knock out the back wall. Jamie, you and Rahne run out after him. Rahne, wolf form." The Scottish girl nodded tightly. "Right after Sam breaks out the back wall, Jubilee, you're going to blow out the front wall. Think you've got enough juice?"

The younger girl flexed her hands, sending small multi-colored sparks popping through the air. She smiled up at Rogue mischievously, "I think I can manage it."

"Good. After you blow out the front, book it out the back. Meet up with Jamie, and you two take the most circuitous route you can think of to the Safeway where we got groceries. Try to go under the radar, but if anyone looks at you wrong give 'em a face full of firecrackers and run."

Rogue turned to Rahne, "Stay a wolf. Get to the Safeway and keep an eye out for Jubes and Jamie." Rahne morphed back to a wolf and waited by the back wall. "OK, I'm going to stick with Sam. We'll all meet up at the store."

She studied them for a moment, then waved them all to their places. "Stay safe. Let's do this!" She nodded at Sam, who took a running leap at the back wall of their hotel room sending timbers and paneling exploding outward like so many matchsticks.

(mmm…page breaks. Yummy.)

Sergeant Michel Thibodeaux, a squad leader of the Bossier City SWAT team, checked his men lined up on both sides of the hotel room door. Even though there were reportedly mutants inside, he expected this to be a fairly routine bust. His squad was experienced, so when an echoing blast sounded from the back of the hotel, there were no overt flinches of surprise.

However, not a single one of his specially trained and prepared team was ready when the world disintegrated in a blast of wood, glass, and rainbow hued light.

(This is getting a bit overdone)

Some two hours later, the wreckage from both explosions had been cleared enough for Captain Kevin Carroll to walk through the scene. Among chunks of wood and rubble, the crime scene people had found clothing and toiletries for four or five people. The hotel complementary mini fridge held easily made food-sandwich fixings, Hot Pockets, doughnuts.

The car reported to belong to the mutants contained only fast food wrappers and drinks containers. Its registration came back to a puppet corporation, with nothing they could conclusively tie to the Xavier Institute.

To all appearances, these mutants were running scared. The Captain clenched his fists angrily. He had no real hatred for mutants, as long as they obeyed the law and paid their taxes, he didn't care what they did or what they looked like.

_These _mutants had put three of his officers into the intensive care unit. _These _mutants had blown the hell out of a local business and endangered countless civilians. They were going to be brought to justice, by any means necessary.

(Three cheers for page breaks!)

Um, yeah. Is that considered a cliffhanger? I wasn't sure.

Here's a question for all of you (really, really adored) reviewers: do you want to see some of what's going on with everyone else or do you want me to stick with Rogue and her gang? They're going to stay the focus of the story, but I was kind of thinking about everyone else's stories as well. Maybe just short little blocks? Tell me what you think!

Sorry there isn't any real back-story in this chapter…


	3. Chapter 3

Well, first off, let me say that all the reviews were lovely, thank you so much. I appreciated everyone's enthusiastic input.

I'm sorry about leaving you with a cliffhanger and then disappearing. Real life was making a sincere attempt to kill me, and then I got writer's block. It was horrible.

Someone mentioned the title in a review, so I thought I might tell you a bit about it. "Desperation Samba (Halloween in Tijuana)" is one of my favorite Jimmy Buffett songs. It's an odd little song, but I adore it, and the title was perfect. If life's a dance, than running for your life must be a desperation samba.

(Page break. I know, I know. It's become a tradition…)

Rahne crouched beneath a fragrantly blooming bush, panting and listening intently for any of her friends. Jubilee and Jamie were supposed to arrive soon, but Rahne desperately wished them here _now_. After the adrenaline fueled flight from the hotel, she wanted all of them together again, to make sure they were all okay and figure out what the hell they were going to do now.

Somehow, their pursuers had found them. They'd been so careful…Rogue, their leader, took every precaution they'd ever been taught, and even some they hadn't. Someone must have recognized Rogue after that stupid CNN broadcast.

The SWAT team that attacked them at the hotel was a local strike force, as all their accents had been from Louisiana (more or less). Rahne didn't know if the local government agencies had been informed before or after the news broadcast, though. She thought maybe the former, because of the toll bridge incident.

What did that mean, though? Did whatever part of the government that was after them have the power to impose on all the smaller agencies? Or did they know which direction her group had been taking and focused their efforts? Had they been tracking them since they left the Institute? If so, why hadn't the attempt been made on some deserted stretch of road instead of a heavily populated urban area?

Mind filled with disturbing unanswerable questions, Rahne didn't hear the group of teenagers walk up until she'd already been spotted. Six guys, somewhere between seventeen and nineteen, and they'd all been drinking. There was a look in the lead boy's eyes when he saw her under the shrubbery that Rahne wasn't at all happy about. Crap, this was going to get messy, she just knew it.

"Here doggy, doggy, doggy." Well, maybe they were too drunk to actually catch her.

"Hey, that's my dog!" Jamie had impeccable timing. Impeccably _bad _timing. By herself, these guys would've been easy to evade. Too late for retreat and regrets now…

Rahne launched herself at the lead boy, snarling and snapping in a good approximation of ferocity. She let her fear and anger about their situation fuel the act, making the hair all along her back stand up. It must have been some kind of convincing, as the group backed up rather unsteadily and decided that they'd try a different entertainment venue for the evening.

When they were alone, Jamie and Jubilee looked at Rahne, clearly impressed.

"Nice!"

"That was really coo-."

All three dropped into defensive positions at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. They breathed a collective sigh of relief when Rogue and Sam hove into view, Rogue half-carrying a dazed looking Sam. Rahne immediately shifted back to human form and rushed forward to help support Sam's other side. He gave her a weary smile that she returned tentatively.

Both turned their attention to Rogue as she began to speak, lines of worry and stress making her appear much older than she was.

"Well, this was a bit of a setback, I know. We're going to be all right, though,"

"How do you figure? We don't have a car, we don't have any place to go, and now we have even more people looking for us! We're _screwed_!" No one was more astonished by her outburst than Jubilee herself. She blushed, but stared straight at Rogue, managing to be defiantly ashamed in the way only a teenager could.

Rogue looked steadily back at the younger girl, hoping that none of the part of herself that vehemently agreed with Jubilee showed, "What should we do, then? Give up? Let them have us, let them imprison us for the rest of our lives?'

The defiance was fading fast, replaced by even more shame. Sensing that enough was enough, softening her tone, Rogue stepped closer to her.

"I am going to keep you all safe, any way I have to, OK? We are going to get through this." A pause, then, "That being said…did anyone spot a decent size van or SUV on the way here?"

Rahne nodded, "About a block away. Big Suburban."

"Right."

(Return of the page breaks!)

Two hours later, they were streaking circumspectly under the speed limit towards the Louisiana-Texas border. Rogue drummed her fingers nervously on the Suburban's steering wheel, eyes flicking between the rearview mirror and the road ahead. There was no visible pursuit, but their pursuers didn't need to be visible. No, they tracked their quarry across airwaves, with thousands of watchers everywhere.

Rogue and company don't have a chance in hell against that kind of cold efficiency. They have no friends who aren't fugitives themselves, no family who wouldn't be endangered by contact, and no real expectation of a random act of kindness by a stranger. They are, in a word, screwed.

_No._

Against all of the overwhelmingly disastrous thoughts cascading through her head, that small denial should have been drowned out. Instead, it rang with the clarity of a church bell at midnight.

_No. _

The simple word snapped Rogue's rapidly deteriorating worldview back into focus. They weren't captured. They weren't dead. They still had a chance.

She glanced at the sleeping kids around her, bolstered by their trust. The thing with Jubilee…well, frankly, Rogue had been expecting it at some point. Hopefully it wasn't going to escalate into a full-scale problem. Like she didn't have enough of those already.

The main things right now were different (preferably legal) transportation, and food. Insurrection would have to be dealt with later.

(Page break. No rotting produce, please.)

Kurt Wagner, ensconced on a lawn chair with a glass of lemonade, was thinking that maybe this fugitive-from-the-law life had a few perks. Once you got past the fact that you couldn't show your face in public (like he could do that anyway), and that all your friends/family were potentially and probably in danger.

After all, he didn't have to think about his Algebra grade anymore.

This took serious contemplation for about six seconds before he decided that he'd rather be back at the Institute, everybody safe and sound, crappy Algebra grade and all.

Grief does weird things to people.

A shout from inside the house was answered almost instantly by Kurt disappearing with a 'bamf' in a cloud of sulfur smoke. The discarded glass of lemonade teetered on the edge of the chair arm, then toppled to the ground where it immediately began to soak into the grass.

Kurt reappeared in the house's living room, where a pale Bobby Drake sat, transfixed by the TV screen. A few hours earlier, the showing of the X-Men's faces on CNN had sent the three ambulatory people in the house into an odd swing shift. One person kept an eye on the news, one person sat with Amara, and one person tried to sleep.

Doing that on an hour rotation was not entirely practical, but it served its purpose in keeping them alert. Always a plus in a life-and-death situation.

Bobby gestured wordlessly at the television screen. It showed the blasted remnants of a motel, wood and plaster and glass piled everywhere. Oddly enough, there was scarcely a sign of fire.

Kurt reached the conclusion just as fast as Bobby had, and they looked at each other in mingled hope and fear.

"Is it just me, or is that-?"

"It was Jubilee. I'd know the marks of her powers anywhere."

Kitty phased her head through the ceiling.

"What is it? What were you shouting about?"

"On the news, they're saying there's been a mutant attack at a motel in Louisiana. Bossier City, to be exact. At least part of the damage was Jubilee." Kurt answered her.

"I'd bet money the other part was Sam," Bobby added, "No one does wholesale demolition like Cannonball."

"He should put that on a business card."

"Hey, can we focus? This is not good."

"What? Of course it is. We know Jubilee and Sam are alive."

"No, we don't."

"If they'd captured them, they would've said something."

Before the argument could get heated, Kitty turned her head towards the room where most of her body resided, "Crap. Amara's awake. I think I might need some help."

Kurt grabbed Bobby's hand, and with another 'bamf' they were in the bedroom. Kitty sat on the bed beside a feverish Amara.

Although the bloody bruise marring the side of the younger girl's head was hidden by her hair, the split lip, clumsily splinted broken wrist, and black eye all attested to her grievous state. At this point, her nervous attendants knew she had a concussion, but could not help her. Kitty remembered the importance of waking her every hour, but that plan had gone a bit awry.

Amara never came fully awake. The closest she got was some sort of violent hallucination, in which she was apparently still fighting for her life. It took all three of her teammates to restrain her and make sure the house didn't burn down or sprout a volcano underneath it. When she went to her flame form, only Bobby could touch her, him visibly shaking in fear as he fought to keep her as immobile as possible without hurting her.

She'd already charred a dozen sheet sets to ashes.

This looked to be another bad spell, as Amara was even now muttering a stream of curses and prayers, and struggling against the bedclothes. Kitty stroked Amara's hair and crooned soothing words she didn't think the younger girl could even hear. Bobby and Kurt stood ready to brace Amara on either side, both dreading the bruises they would enlarge on her already battered body.

Downstairs, the talking heads on the television droned on about the mutant menace.

(Pirates of the Page Breaks! No?)

Turning the TV off and flipping the remote to the other end of the couch, Remy LeBeau cursed inventively to himself.

'_Mutant menace' my ass…it's a bunch of kids!_

The pictures flashed on CNN were all people he knew, and he wanted to help them. Searching the whole country was not exactly practical, however.

Now he had a direction. As much as he did _not _want to go back to Louisiana, the explosions in Bossier City were evidence of at least a few of the X-Men's presence there.

They were already moving again, he was sure, but Bossier City was the place to start.

He could be there in an hour by plane. The police on the news had talked about finding the vehicle the mutants were driving, so if whichever of the kids was in charge was any kind of intelligent, they'd have stolen a car. So, they needed a legal ride. Well, that was easy enough.

(…page break. Erm.)

Let me just tell you right now that I abhor writing Gambit. Rogue I can deal with, so I usually just write him from her perspective. The reason that whole bit felt forced is because it was. Sorry, it had to be done.

So, the section with Kurt was stuck in my brain, and then someone mentioned in a review about missing him. That got me able to finish it.

This was…hard to write. And it's not that long, and it's not that good, but I'm trying to work through my writer's block. It'll get better, I swear.

And…now I'm going to quit bitching and let you get on with (hopefully) reviewing.

Cheers!


	4. Chapter 4

So. Apparently, I'm not allowed to respond to individual reviews in an author's note. I will therefore say that in general if someone were to be concerned about Gambit's part in this, they shouldn't worry too much. I like Rogue the way I'm writing her. Also, that if someone were to be living in San Antonio and reviewing this, please forgive me for screwing with your city.

Disclaimer: If I owned X-Men Evolution, I'd be living off more than dinner rolls and Odwalla juice right now.

(Do the Page Break!)

Approximately twelve hours and five car changes later, Rogue and crew caught the first exit off Highway 10 to San Antonio. She'd driven mostly aimlessly, wanting only the protection of movement.

Jamie was the only one to have slept at all, a fitful hour and a half as they cruised through a Dallas suburb looking for a likely replacement to their current ride.

Hot-wiring cars became much easier after the second time.

Now, with the rising sun casting a rosy glow over the city, Rogue followed a series of vastly misleading street signs until she found Rosedale Park. As the Dodge truck settled, she turned to survey her unsettled passengers. Rahne was a wolf again, the better to confuse those looking for five kids with no pets. Sam and Jubilee's eyes were both marked by dark circles. Jamie jittered nervously in his seat, unable to stay still for long.

Rogue cleared her throat, "I think we all need to get out and move around a bit. There's this nice big open field, it's too early for anyone to see. C'mon."

She exited the car first. Hoping to provide some kind of positive example, Rogue did a few jumping jacks, than attempted a string of cartwheels. Attempted being the operative word. After the second wheel, her T-shirt flew up, covering her face.

Temporarily blinded, Rogue blushed angrily at Jubilee's tired chuckle. Remembering how laughing had relaxed everyone earlier, though, she let herself start giggling.

"Hey, Rogue…you going for beads, or what?"

Oh, right. Hastily pulling her shirt down, Rogue watched as Jamie smacked Rahne's arm and ran. Jubilee pretended dignified disinterest at first, but ran shrieking as soon as Rahne approached her. The impromptu game of tag ranged over the large soccer field, Rahne eventually tagging Jamie back so hard three copies of him appeared. All four boys then began to chase the two girls, and their laughter rang back through the morning.

Sam carefully helped Rogue up, and the two leaned against the truck watching their teammates. He was the first to break the silence.

"So, are you still thinking Seattle?"

Rogue sighed, though the sight of a Jamie-clone (or was it the real one?) sliding through the grass on his stomach made her smile. Sam was a smart kid, smart enough to see through any crap reassurances. He wanted to know their real situation.

Even a smart kid was still a kid. They needed protection and room to grow up, not running, fear, fighting, and possible imprisonment. Rogue couldn't share the decision making with Sam, with any of them.

He waited for her response, the epitome of patience. Sam had always been so evenly tempered; he'd never seemed to fit in with the gaggle of other teen boys inhabiting the Institute. Where were the rest of them now? Dead or alive, dissected or imprisoned?

When being a fugitive was the high life, Rogue thought it might be time to stop and reconsider your life.

Rahne careened up to them, panting, red-faced, and laughing whenever she wasn't gasping. Grabbing Sam's arm, she made a valiant attempt to drag the boy out onto the field. He mock-reluctantly resisted, digging in his heels and making her work for the victory.

Rogue, watching them, marveled (sorry…puns are evil.) anew at the adaptive ability of children. Not that she had much room (or many years) to talk. It only felt as if she were ancient.

She gestured to them all to come back to the truck. Time to be on the move.

(Holy page breaks, Batman!)

"Hey, what does El Pollo Loco mean?"

"The Crazy Chicken. Wait, where did you see that?"

"The restaurant we passed. Can we eat there?"

"Ooh, they have those in California. They're good!"

"For breakfast?"

"Sure, why not?"

And so it came to pass that Rogue found herself eating chicken enchiladas at nine in the morning. The kids had all been excited about it, and she didn't want to completely destroy their morale if she didn't have to.

Besides, the food wasn't half bad.

(El Page Break Loco…)

They'd left the Dodge of Dallas (as Jamie had taken to calling it) in a Burger King parking lot, and walked the couple miles to the Desert Rose Mall. It had the nearest ATM, and they were down to nubbins in the cash department.

Jubilee wilted as soon as the mall came into view.

"That's not a mall. That's…a glorified shed row."

Circumspection was the name of the game now. Rogue placed the kids within easy sight, but close enough to exits that they could make individual escapes if they had to. She approached the ATM confidently. That was all part of it, looking as if you belonged.

Jamie and Sam were perusing game consoles at Radio Shack to her right, Jubilee and Rahne flipping through the sales rack at Bon Marche to her left. Everything was fine, right?

Two hundred in twenties slid nicely out of the slot and the ATM screen wished her "Bienvenidos!" Apparently she'd punched the Spanish button…good thing somewhere along the line someone she'd absorbed had spoken Spanish.

Rogue forced herself to take calming breaths when she saw the two security guards gesturing towards Sam and Jamie. She resisted the urge to swoop down on all her charges and hustle them away. Catching Sam's eye in the glass plate reflection, she bent to tie her shoe in the pre-arranged signal for them to meet outside.

Rahne, as nonchalant as one could be while panicking, sauntered up to Rogue. Hissing under her breath as she faked bumping into the older girl, "Jubilee's gone! I turned around and she wasn't there…"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Good girl, using her best American accent.

"No, it's fine, don't worry." Then, quietly as she could, "Meet at the designated place. I'll find her."

They went their separate ways, as innocently as two passersby colliding.

Jamie was doing his full best to be undercover…and the new Gamecubes were pretty cool. Sam saw the girls' exchange, watched Rogue head for the Bon and Rahne exit out a side door. He tugged Jamie's sleeve, and for the benefit of the watching security guards, "C'mon Bobby, if we don't get back to the food court, Mom's going to kill us. Let's go."

Putting up a token fight, Jamie trailed after his 'brother', glancing longingly back at the shop window. As soon as they rounded the corner, he punched the air enthusiastically.

"I think they bought it!"

"That's good, but let's try to keep it quiet, OK? Something went wrong."

Jamie sobered instantly, "What?"

"Jubilee didn't leave with Rahne."

"Crap."

(Egap Kaerb)

Rogue strode past the racks of clothes, trying to ignore her heart hammering in her throat. Where the hell was that girl? She had a lot of nerve walking off like that, when so much was on the line.

A flash of blue jeans and white T-shirt near the women's dressing rooms caught Rogue's eye and she veered in that direction. She caught the edge of the cubicle door as Jubilee was opening it, causing the younger girl to run unceremoniously into the door handle.

"Ouch, Rogue, what the fuck…"

Her voice trailed away.

"Put that stuff down and come with me, right now."

Jubilee immediately dropped the armload of blouses on the cubicle bench and followed Rogue to the outer exit of the store. The older girl was furious and made no attempt at hiding it. They emerged into the dazzling sunlight of a San Antonio afternoon, still walking faster than was really comfortable in this heat.

Someone grabbed Jubilee's arm, and she tensed for a fight. It was one of the mall's rent-a-cops, and he looked a little too happy at having caught her. Hiding her other hand behind her back, she formed a little…surprise for him.

"Amy." It was Jubilee's cover name, her mother's name. She looked back at Rogue, currently standing within arm's length of another mall cop. The anger was gone from her eyes, replaced by guarded fear. Jubilee let the sparks in her palm disintegrate.

"C'mon you two." They were marched into a little room in the back of the Bon store, all gray cement floor and whitewashed walls.

The guards made them sit at the folding table, in two rickety plastic chairs. Jubilee wished fervently that she could reach over and grab Rogue's hand, but she knew they had to keep their cover intact if they were going to get out of this.

"What's your name?"

Rogue wanted to ask if this guy was supposed to be the good cop, but refrained. Polite and respectful would be better.

"Marie Wagner." Pronounced the American way, of course. No use tying too many parallels to her brother. _Is he alive? Hurt?_ She ruthlessly pushed the thoughts aside.

"How old are you, Miss Wagner?" Well, no need to lie there.

"Eighteen."

The guy turned on Jubilee next.

"Amy, was it? You have a last name, Amy?" Jubilee jumped nervously, and Rogue saw the urge to give a smart-ass comeback flit through her eyes. Thankfully, she restrained herself, and replied almost meekly.

"Lam. My name's Amy Lam."

"And how old are you?"

"Fourteen."

This was all duly written down on a piece of paper, and the rent-a-cop stood.

"Well, it's policy, we had to call a trooper down here. You two just sit tight."

He left, and Jubilee turned to Rogue in panic.

"What're we going to do?"

"We'll be fine. I have a plan. Just be ready to go when I say, OK?"

"OK."

Not a minute later, a uniformed cop walked in and addressed Rogue.

"Miss Wagner, could you please stand up and come over here?"

Rogue dutifully did so, dreading the next few minutes. This was not going to be fun.

"Miss Wagner, I'm going to need you to remove your gloves, please." The trooper held up a pair of handcuffs.

She did, and turned around as instructed. He got her first wrist encircled all right, but brushed her hand on the second one. He dropped like a stone, and Rogue cringed, her mind flooded with thoughts and feelings that weren't her own.

If she'd only had a few minutes to get her bearings together, she would've been fine.

Trooper Martinez's partner walked in just in time to see his partner collapse, however. He slammed the girl that Luis had been cuffing against the wall, and turned his head to shout for back up.

Jubilee released a handful of flash-bang firecrackers into the air, blinding the trooper holding Rogue long enough for the older girl to wrestle herself free. They raced down the narrow corridor and slammed into the nearest unlocked door, leaning against it and panting as the sound of running feet pattered past.

The two girls started wildly at the exclamation of surprise from the other occupant of the room.

A teen girl, no older than Rogue, gaped at them. She was holding a steaming cup of soup, and obviously didn't notice that the boiling water had spilt on her hand.

The tableau stayed frozen for a second, before Jubilee broke into the biggest smile she could manage.

"Hi, I'm Amy, and this is Marie. Can you help us get out of here?"

Rogue gave a little wave, then noticed she was waving with her still shackled hand. She hurriedly tucked it behind her back and gave the girl a nervous smile.

"Um…aren't you the people they just pulled in for shoplifting?"

"No! I mean, well, yes, but we didn't do it. Steal anything, that is." Jubilee's cheerful front had just degraded into babbling.

"Wait," the girl squinted at Rogue, "I've seen you before. You were on the news…you're a mutant!"

Jubilee fell silent, looking nervously over at Rogue. The girl was silent, watching them. Rogue cleared her throat, and nodded sharply.

"Oh. Well, come on. You can go out the service entrance."

Rogue and Jubilee followed the girl out of the break room where she'd been eating lunch, down a parallel corridor to the one they'd just left, out into a truck loading bay, and thence to the shady side parking lot of the Bon.

They stopped on the curb, and Rogue turned to look back at her.

"Thanks."

Jubilee was a second behind in echoing her.

"Yeah, thanks. Are you going to get into trouble?"

The girl shrugged. "Probably not. There aren't any cameras in the back; they won't know it was me. You guys better take off, though."

Rogue and Jubilee headed out across the pavement, keeping a surreptitious eye out for cop cars. They turned as the girl ran up to them.

"By the way," she said with a smile, and held up a set of keys-one of which was a handcuff key.

Rogue hastily unclipped the metal bracelet from around her wrist.

"Thanks again."

"No problem."

(Break. Page Break.)

"They were muties for sure, sir. One of them threw some kind of colorful fire, and the other one knocked Lui-, I mean, Trooper Martinez out. There isn't a mark on him, but he's out cold. Sir."

The anxious trooper was being treated for minor burns around the eyes. His partner had already been transported to hospital, unconscious with seemingly no cause. Trooper Calkin sat on the tailgate, facing his LT and the Bossier City Captain Carroll. The two officers thanked the trooper, and sent him off in the ambulance.

"Seen enough?" Lieutenant Mitchell asked speculatively.

"Yeah…looks like it might be the same group. My people reported seeing rainbow fire during the explosion." Carroll thumbed his moustache, a nervous habit.

The two walked off the scene, ducking under the crime scene tape to go to their respective cars. As they did, a tall man in a duster approached Captain Carroll.

"So, Captain, is this related to the explosion in Bossier City?"

Carroll rolled his eyes, "You came all the way out here from New Orleans? Isn't there enough shit going on in your city?" Reporters didn't usually wear dark shades, although it was bright out.

"Hey, mutant menace. Big story, gotta keep the people informed."

"Yeah, yeah," Lieutenant Mitchell waved a hand at the reporter. "Preliminary evidence suggests there might be a link in the two incidents, but I swear if a headline goes out saying 'Mutants Marauding' or some such, I will have your head on a platter."

"Sure thing, Lieutenant." The man sauntered off to an expensive-looking SUV. Mitchell wondered if he'd just threatened a Times-Picayune reporter with death, and exactly how well that was going to go over with his boss. The incident soon slipped from his memory, however, as such incidents do.

(Page Break Mafia.)

Um. Yeah.

I'm sorry, but the inspiration ran out right there. I'm sorry it kind of…sucks.

I do have most of the story mapped out; I know where it's going to end up and part of how they're going to get there. The only problem is getting it out between classes, homework, and everything else that goes into college life.

Review, and tell me what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

Right-o, I've had one reviewer in particular telling me to get a move on, which got this partially finished chapter, well, finished. So, thanks, Jade. If the quality is crap, blame the concussion I got over winter break. The MRI is pending. Yeah, it's that bad. Stupid head injuries…

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men Evolution, or the Canadian province of British Colombia.

(page break)

Sam was sure he'd been in a more uncomfortable situation than this.

The day that he had finally told his father he was a mutant definitely qualified.

He hadn't had to tell his father while they were sitting in the confines of a minivan, on the run from people who wanted to capture, torture and kill them, however.

So…this might be the most uncomfortable situation he'd ever been in.

Sam drove, the minivan covering the miles and miles of New Mexican desert in surprisingly good time. Jubilee rode shotgun beside him. Normally Rahne and Jamie would have intensely vied for that coveted position, but both of them had refused to sit beside Jubilee in the second row of seats.

If the icy atmosphere in the front of the van wasn't enough, there was the occasional moan or spate of cursing in Spanish from the back. Rogue was lying on the bench seat in the back, nursing a migraine and trying to get all her personalities back in order.

Sam glanced in the rearview mirror, glad to see Jamie leaning over on Rahne who was leaning against the window, fast asleep.

"Sam?" Rogue's voice was suddenly clear from the back.

"Yeah?" They'd had to pull over once already so that Rogue could throw up.

"Time?"

"It's almost three. We should make Santa Fe by five-thirty."

"Gas?"

"No, we'll be fine."

"Kay…"

He could hear her turn over, rattling the seat belt buckles.

Sam chanced a glance over at Jubilee. She was still resolutely glaring out the passenger window, stubbornly ignoring the rest of the group. Sam sighed and refocused on the road.

As the pavement rolled away underneath the wheels of the van, Sam relived the terrifying moments waiting for Rogue and Jubilee…

(page break)

Jamie jittered nervously from foot to foot, shooting none-too-furtive looks at Sam and Rahne.

"Rogue said…" Jamie ventured.

"That we should all stick together. And that's what we're doing." Rahne snapped.

Undeterred by her uncharacteristic tone, Jamie grimaced in confusion.

"Do you think Jubilee's OK? Do you think Rogue needs back-up?"

"I don't _know_, Jamie! Can't you just shut up for a minute?" Rahne glared at the younger boy, hands curled into fists.

"Hey, that's enough." Sam stepped in between the two, astonished that Rahne, even under duress, would yell at Jamie.

Rahne's eyes instantly filled with tears of shame.

"Jamie, I'm sorry…"

"It's okay, Rahne, seriously, please don't cry…" Both boys were nervous about her tears. Neither had ever seen Rahne anywhere close to crying, not even when she'd broken her wrist in a Danger Room session gone awry.

She sniffled, wiping at her eyes. Sam cleared his throat.

"Why don't we scout out another car, so that we'll be ready to go when they get here?"

Jamie and Rahne readily agreed. They couldn't go very far, but they eventually found the minivan. Felicitously, Jubilee and a gloveless Rogue appeared right afterwards. Jubilee was half-supporting Rogue, who wearily ordered Sam to drive them west, than collapsed in the back seat.

The confrontation had taken place on the outskirts of the city. Sam was maneuvering as circumspectly through traffic as possible (he really was a good driver, but this wasn't exactly the best time to make a mistake). Rahne turned around in the passenger seat to look at Jubilee.

"What happened? One second you were there, then it was like 'poof!', you were gone."

Jubilee flushed, "There were some really cute blouses…I just wanted to try a couple on…"

"Wait…you went off to look at _clothes_?" Stunned, Rahne gawped at her friend.

Sam struggled to keep his attention on the road in front of him, and listen to the conversation at the same time. Well, it hadn't been much of a conversation after that revelation. Rahne and Jamie had both retreated into disapproving silence-neither of them would so much as look at Jubilee, who was close to tears.

When they stopped to let Rogue empty the contents of her stomach by the side of the highway, the two younger kids commandeered the middle seat. Jubilee sat in the passenger seat, and they all rode in strained silence through the night.

(page break)

Ray Crisp was _not _an outdoors person. Skateparks, miles and miles of asphalt, all-night pizza places, in short-cities were his territory.

A cabin surrounded by trees as far as the eye could see was hell.

Actually, he amended mentally, hell was watching your friends get cut to pieces by explosions. The bastards who attacked the Institute had been cowards-coming after the mutants in the middle of the night with missiles. There'd been gunships in the air. Ray had heard Storm and Wolverine talking about it late one night.

Ray had been disoriented enough to never actually defend himself or his friends. Logan had scooped him up under one arm like a baby and kept running.

At least Roberto had tried.

The Brazilian boy never rubbed it in, the way Ray fully expected him to. In fact, Roberto had been subdued the entire long flight through Canada to this isolated cabin in the wilds of northern British Colombia.

Ray re-focused on the dirt road that lead away from the cabin. Apparently, Logan had chosen this place especially for the ability to see anyone driving long before they ever reached the house. The vista was technically beautiful-picturesque lake, green trees, snowcapped mountains-but Ray would've given anything to be back at the mansion.

He didn't acknowledge the sound of footsteps behind him. Roberto stepped up and leaned against the porch railing beside Ray.

"Storm says lunch is almost ready."

Ray nodded curtly.

Roberto sighed and turned his face up to the sun. In this northern region, in late November, he had to take advantage of all the sunshine he could get. It was an interesting side effect of his power, that he healed faster the more light he absorbed. The wound on his shoulder, deep enough that Storm and Wolverine had feared he might lose the use of the arm, was now just a soreness of the joint.

He knew Ray was beating himself up about the night the Institute was attacked. They shared a room, and it seemed to be all the other boy dreamed about.

When they'd first met, it'd been like oil and water. The shared experience of running for their lives, though…if they weren't friends, there was still a camaraderie there. Roberto wondered if it was strong enough that he could talk to Ray about the thing that neither mentioned.

"Ray…"

A dust cloud appeared at the end of the drive.

"Storm! I think Logan's back!" Ray called inside the house. The two boys were joined a moment later by Ororo, and all three squinted at the rapidly appearing vehicle.

"Indeed, that is him. I will go put the finishing touches on lunch." She stepped off the porch, and silence descended. Ray glanced over at Roberto, wondering. Their eyes met, the contact a little searing, a little too personal.

"Uh…I'm going to go help Storm." Roberto stammered, and flushed at the tremor in his tone.

"Yeah." Unexpectedly, Ray smiled, "I'll see if Logan needs help getting groceries inside."

(page break)

"There've been two 'mutant attacks' now, in Bossier City and San Antonio. Seems someone's heading west. From the damage done, I'd say Jubilee and Sam." Logan paused to take a pull on his beer. The four mutants sat around a rough-hewn dining table, the remains of lunch abandoned in favor of Wolverine's news from town.

When they'd finally settled in this tiny cabin, Storm and Logan had decided that he would be the only one to make contact with the outside world. It was safer if Logan seemed to be a lone man, out here in the wilds.

"I remember Sam was with Rahne and Jamie, in the bedroom wing. The talking heads on the news say it looks like a group of four or five. That'd make the four kids, plus maybe Rogue." Logan's gruff voice took on a slight patina of pride. "In fact, I'd bet it is her. She's smart enough to get them out like that." He took another drink of beer, satisfied.

Roberto was the first to speak after this pronouncement. "So, we know that they're alive. Shouldn't we go get them?"

"How're we going to find them? It's kind of a big country." Ray hadn't meant to sound so mocking, hadn't meant to shatter the fragile peace between the two of them. Storm turned a reproving eye on him, and Ray ducked his head.

"Well, you said they're heading west, right? Couldn't they be wanting to hide in a heavily populated area? Like LA?" Roberto addressed Logan, anxiously keen for his theory to be approved. He wanted to be _doing _something, damn it, not hiding here in the woods while his friends were being pursued!

Logan grunted noncommittally and finished his beer. Storm turned the eye of disapproval on him when he went to the icebox for another one. He ignored her. His metabolism worked fast enough to rid his system of two cans of Budweiser quickly enough.

(page break)

It was Ray's turn to wash up after lunch. He did so, than sought out Roberto.

The Brazilian boy was stretched out on a chaise, eyes closed, seemingly ignorant of the stiff wind blowing off the lake. Radiation from the sun kept him warm enough, no matter where he was.

Shoving his hands in the pocket of his jeans, Ray eyed Roberto for a second before blurting, "I'm sorry. About earlier. I want to go find them too."

Roberto opened his eyes, and looked at Ray for a long moment. "That night at the Institute. There wasn't anything you could've done. You couldn't have fought them off." Surprised at his own words, Roberto fell silent.

Ray dropped into a lawn chair, felt the nylon and metal creak underneath him. "How do you figure? You fought, and you're not even at your best at night." He felt torn, wanting both absolution and condemnation from the other boy.

Roberto sighed. "I was stupid about it. I was in the kitchen, I felt the first missiles hit. I ran outside…used whatever power I had left from the day before. It wasn't enough, I was just making a target of myself. Logan saved my sorry ass." He grinned at Ray, who smiled tentatively back. Maybe absolution was best.

"Now, how're we going to convince Storm and Logan to go after Sam and the others?"

(page break)

Well, wasn't that exciting amounts of nothing much happening? Apologies for that. Um…I promise next chapter will be better, if y'all are feeling benevolent enough to stick with me.

Do please review, it's good karma. No, seriously.


	6. Chapter 6

Oh my goodness-all of you reviewers who badgered and PM-ed me and told me to get my rear in gear-well, I never thought this story would get this much love, and for all you to be hanging with me after my utter lack of anything even resembling updating is just completely, utterly fantastic. I love you all.

Please note that there are NO OC's in this chapter! I liberally looted from the stores of X-Men comics and movies-points if you can find all the references and identify all the characters (although I did play merry hell with them. Ah, the joys of fanfiction).

Disclaimer: I own nothing even vaguely associated with Marvel Comics or Stan Lee.

(page break!)

Moira McTaggert's living room was…tailored. Nice couches, beige carpet, stunning landscape photos of Scottish scenery. It was scrupulously neat, but still comfortable and welcoming.

Scott Summers hated the place on sight. He slumped on one of the couches, hesitant to move for fear of waking Jean, leaning against him.

Evan snored away softly on the other couch, although his uninjured fist kept clenching and unclenching. Every time he tensed, a spike popped out of his hand, then _schlepped _back in when he relaxed.

Carefully shifting out from under Jean, Scott reached for a throw pillow and slipped it under her head. She murmured softly in her sleep, and he felt a feather brush across his mind. _(Shh…I'm here.) _Jean relaxed, turning her face toward the couch. Scott walked to the wide window that showcased a stunning view of Muir Bay. The churning sea and stormy skies was the perfect clichéd backdrop for his emotions, he mused bitterly.

He whirled, heart in his throat and hand poised at his visor, at the brush of a shoe on the carpet. Framed in the door was a teenage girl, perhaps Kitty's age. Grinning wryly, the girl held up her hands in surrender.

"Sorry." Scott said softly, lowering his hand from the visor.

"It's all right. I'm Theresa, Moira sent me to check on you three." She may have looked like a red-haired version of Kitty, but her accent was purely Rahne. Scott's heart contracted…both girls were who knew where. From Jean's initial emergency call, they'd known roughly who had gone with whom. Who knew now, though, what had happened to them all-his responsibility, his team, his _friends_?

Theresa coughed lightly, and Scott realized he'd been blankly staring off into space.

"Sorry, again. I'm Scott. Scott Summers." He crossed the room to shake her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Scott Summers. Wish it were under better circumstances." Theresa concealed her anxiety under a matter-of-fact tone and a firm handshake. "Now, Moira told me to see you settled. There's beds, showers, food…" She trailed off and looked at Evan and Jean. They were both out for the count.

Scott scrubbed the back of his neck with one hand, grimacing at the ache of an acute case of whiplash. "A shower, maybe."

Theresa nodded, "I'll stay out here with them, in case they wake up."

Scott smiled gratefully. Sometimes it was nice to have someone else managing things.

(erm…page break's cliff diving.)

After he'd stood under the showerhead long enough to nearly drain the North Sea, Scott emerged with hair damp, looking slightly better than he had. Theresa sat in an armchair, reading a dog-eared copy of _The Once and Future King_. Scott stopped dead at the sight of the book, feeling as if the world were compressing around him.

"What's wrong?" Theresa had looked up from her book to greet Scott, but now she put the book down and stood. "Are you all right?"

He shook himself, more of a shudder than anything else. "Um, yeah, sorry." He glanced at her worried expression, wondered how much to confide in this stranger. "It's just…that's the Professor's favorite book."

A pensive look landed heavily in her eyes, and Theresa settled back in the armchair almost cradling the worn paperback in her hands. "I know," she said, "Professor Xavier gave this to me, for my birthday."

Scott perched on the arm of Jean's couch. Silence suffocated, and he felt like possibly the world's biggest jerk as he watched Theresa lovingly trace the scrollwork title. After a moment, he plucked at the hem of the T-shirt he was wearing.

"Thanks for the clothes, by the way."

She looked up, smiling, although sadness lingered in her eyes. "You're just about the same size as my da."

"Ah." There wasn't much to say to that. "Is your dad living here too?"

Theresa nodded, grateful for the change of subject. "We live on the other side of the island-not that it's a particularly big island. We visit Moira a lot." She hesitated, considered. "I used to…I mean…Rahne and I were friends, before she left. Is she…I mean, do you know what…what happened to her?" Theresa immediately regretted the stammered question as Scott's shoulders stiffened as if she'd dealt him a physical blow.

_Way to bollocks that, 'Resa! Can't ever keep your foot out of your bloody mouth!_

Before she could apologize, the older girl on the couch woke with a start. Scott rushed to her side.

"Jean, it's me. It's okay." The couple locked eyes, and Theresa sensed that there was an entire silent conversation going on right in front of her. After a handful of seconds, the older girl turned to Theresa and smiled.

"Scott said there were showers?"

(now the page break's in the hospital-leg fracture.)

Moira had emerged from the medical ward long enough to ask Theresa to phone her father. When Scott had pressed the older woman about the Professor's condition, she smiled tiredly up at him. "We'll know better in the morning, love."

After that it had been a whirlwind of introductions to Theresa's father, Sean, who was indeed within an inch or two of Scott's height and build. The sandy-haired man kissed his daughter on the cheek lovingly, asked her to get dinner going, then disappeared into the medical ward. A freshly showered Jean helped Theresa, who never even so much as blinked when floating paring knives neatly peeled potatoes into the sink.

Dinner was a subdued affair, the three X-Men exhausted and tense, Moira, Theresa and Sean no less so. Scott and Sean did the dishes while Moira ordered a bleary-eyed Evan back to sleep-this time in a guest bedroom. Sean and Theresa said their good-nights, promising to be back in the morning for breakfast.

Moira sunk into the armchair that Theresa had previously occupied, while Scott and Jean sat side-by-side on one of the couches. Sighing heavily, the older woman scanned the couple's faces.

"I know I shouldn't ask this of you right now, but I need to know: what happened?"

Jean tensed, felt Scott beside her do the same. She clasped his hand in her own, linking their fingers in a comforting gesture.

Scott cleared his throat, gripped Jean's hand. "It started about ten last night…I heard the helicopters before I saw them…"

(page break)

Jubilation Lee lay on yet another lumpy motel mattress, staring up at the featureless ceiling through the dark. The soft sounds the others made as they slept did nothing to comfort or reassure her. She wasn't even sure how they were able to sleep.

A muted whimper drew her attention. Sitting up silently, Jubilee leaned over the bed to see Rahne, curled up on the floor in her wolf-form, twitch convulsively. Bad dream, Jubilee thought pensively. It was like that for all of them-fall asleep, and you were back in the Mansion…back in the dark, fire and fear…

She reached out to place a comforting hand on Rahne's back, but pulled away at the last second. The Scottish girl had been nothing less than icy the past day. Jubilee had never known Rahne to hold a grudge before, and felt more than a little persecuted. _ It was one mistake! _Couldn't they cut her some slack?

Jamie and Rahne had been the worst, speaking to her only when it was absolutely necessary. Sam was uncomfortable, Jubilee could tell. He had always been the peacemaker, back at the Mansion-always the one to get people to make up. _Well, we're not at the Mansion anymore, are we? _ Jubilee felt a pang of shame at the nasty thought.

And then there was Rogue. The older girl had said…nothing. She'd spoken to Jubilee just the same, no hint of anger or disdain in her voice.

But she hadn't let Jubilee drive.

When they'd stopped in Santa Fe, a worn looking Sam and an equally worn looking Rogue had conferred quietly by the gas pumps. Rahne and Jamie were in the service station using the toilet, and Jubilee had walked round the van to stretch her legs. As she rounded the back bumper, she caught the tail of Rogue and Sam's conversation:

"I'm fine to drive still, really."

"You need sleep. I can handle it."

They'd noticed her then, leaning against the back of the van. Straightening, she tried in vain to feel less like a child being caught eavesdropping on adults.

"I could drive." She'd said, as casually as possible.

"No, Jubilee, I've got it." Just like that, Rogue had relegated her, Jubilee, to the ranks of those incapable of contributing. If only she'd been a bitch about it, they could have argued, Jubilee could have fought, could have tried to do something to restore Rogue's lost confidence in her!

Even here, in this quietly dark motel room, hundreds of miles from that humiliating scene, Jubilee felt the anger nearly boiling inside her.

One mistake, and she wasn't even trusted with the simple task of driving! As stealthily as she could, Jubilee crawled out of bed and picked her way through the dark to the tiny bathroom. She ran cool water in the sink and splashed her face, trying to quell the furious flush on her cheeks.

Looking into the mirror, Jubilee studied her reflection. Familiar features greeted her, almond eyes, jet hair, so different from everyone else on this little traveling circus.

Bobby had always liked her different. He'd run his fingers through her hair, trace her features with amazing delicacy for such a rough-and-tumble guy…

Tears welled in her eyes, making her double in the mirror blur. Jubilee grabbed a swath of toilet paper and sat heavily on the closed lid of the toilet.

The last time she'd seen Bobby, he'd been back-to-back with Amara…the pair unleashing fire and ice in equal measure at the soldiers harrying them. Jubilee's firecrackers were taking their own toll on the Mansion's assailants.

A terrified scream from the distant dormitory wing was echoed sickeningly a moment later when Amara took a bullet to the leg. She collapsed, fire fading, agony twisting her normally lovely face as she clutched her leg. Bobby de-iced immediately, dropping to his wounded teammate's side as Jubilee upped her bombardment to try and cover them. A second, frantic cry tore the air down the hall.

Jubilee hesitated, torn between wanting desperately to stay and help Amara…but whoever had called out didn't have any back-up.

Bobby took the decision from her. He looked up, met her eyes from his position by Amara.

"Go help Rahne!" He yelled, managing to be white with terror and commanding all at the same time. She nodded, released a final blast of rainbow light, then darted for the dorm hall, praying fervently that he would be okay…

Jubilee came back to the present, shaking. She felt something slip in her grasp, than realized the toilet paper was now a sodden, twisted mess in one fist.

She got up, threw the toilet paper in the trashcan, slipped back into bed. No one stirred. Staring up at the featureless ceiling through the dark, Jubilee contemplated teams and trust until she fell into an uneasy sleep.

(page break. Oh yeah, baby.)

A girl in a black dress sat in a café in Boston and watched a news story about mutant attacks across the country while she ate a croissant.

Eventually, she gave up and just watched the news.

It wasn't a very good croissant.

Collating data, categorizing the news' information as slightly suspect…one had to consider the source.

Abruptly, the girl stood, leaving a five-dollar bill on the table to pay for the (inedible) croissant. Within five minutes, no one in the café would remember the girl at all.

(Erm. Yes. Another page break.)

The girl in the black dress sat at her desk in her featureless flat. There was almost nothing in the way of personal touches-clothing, toiletries, and one battered paperback. Other than that, all the furniture had come with the apartment.

Sitting at her desk, the girl stared not off into space, but into the environment inside her own head. Data streams rushed by, dates and facts and figures clamored for attention, but the girl calmly sorted them out. She placed facts in files, files in categories…

Then she extrapolated. Before the café, she'd been at the library. The Internet carried a wealth of information to any who sought it. Among the information was data on recent seismic activity around the Chicago area-recent unusual seismic activity.

Seismic disruptions on the reported scale were consistent with the abilities of at least one of her quarries. Therefore, she would go to Chicago.

The girl packed a well-worn backpack with some of the clothes, the toiletries, and the paperback book. Picking up the phone, she dialed, waited.

"Tell Sebastian that I will be out of touch for two weeks." Her flat voice invited no questions, not that anyone delegated to answering phones would question her. Her position in the hierarchy was…quite well established, especially for one so young.

The girl left the apartment, walking to the train station and boarding the express line to Chicago.

(page break)

Yes, the girl at the end is mysterious as all hell on purpose. I felt like I needed to build her up a little before I said her name-though some of the comic readers should already know who she is.

Thanks muchly if you've been with me this far, and I will do my best to update in a more timely fashion in the future.

Cheers!


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